


silk

by Feroxai



Series: slingshot 'verse [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), no beta we die like Glenn, no knowledge of other works in this series required to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22845667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feroxai/pseuds/Feroxai
Summary: Sometimes, Sylvain thinks the sight of his husband lounging in their clawfoot bathtub is the most beautiful sight he’ll ever see.Felix Week | Day 3 | Hair + Sylvix Prompt Challenge Fill
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: slingshot 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642336
Comments: 14
Kudos: 198
Collections: Felix Birthday Week 2020, Sylvix Prompt Challenge!!, Sylvix Squad Super Stories





	silk

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Inmonitorlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inmonitorlight/pseuds/Inmonitorlight) in the [sylvix_promptmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sylvix_promptmeme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  This is kind of a simple one, but I'd love to see something where Sylvain touches/plays with Felix' hair. It can be kinky or just pure fluff, so I hope it's ok that I'm leaving the choice of rating to the writer.

Sometimes, Sylvain thinks the sight of his husband lounging in their clawfoot bathtub is the most beautiful sight he’ll ever see. 

Felix, for all of his scars and corded muscle, is an ethereal, mortal creature who had foolishly given him his heart and life. Sylvain is eager to prove that he deserves that devotion by worshipping him at his altar, on his knees, on his back, and on the edge of their bathtub, hands soft with soap, and blessed with the touch of Felix’s hair.

There are many beautiful things about Felix, from the cute tips of his toes to the strength of his thighs to the curve of his arse. Sylvain loves the snow-like expanse of his neck, and the breathy little sigh he lets out whenever Sylvain presses his lips to his pulse. He loves watching the satisfied flutter of Felix’s eyelashes as he sinks into perfectly warmed water. He loves the way Felix tilts his head back against the tub like a content housecat as if he expects Sylvain to wait on him hand and foot.

But one of the things that Sylvain loves most of all is Felix’s long, soft, silk-like hair. 

Sylvain often brushes it before bed, using scented oils which he insists on importing in from Almyra. He wants only the best for his beloved. In the early years of their marriage, Felix had grumbled about it. "Unnecessary," he had said when Sylvain had first pulled out the glass bottle. But he had allowed Sylvain to brush his hair with the oil, and Sylvain had caught him smiling at the wayward strands of his hair the next morning.

It is now a part of their routine. Sylvain seldom forgets to do it— how could he when Felix would wait in their bed in the evenings, in soft clothes and even softer candlelight? Felix didn’t need the help. He used to aggressively brush out his hair and sloppily bind, braid or bunch it to the back of his head. But Sylvain couldn’t bear to see that. Every part of his beloved needed to be treated with care. He had said as much to him, the first time he’d pulled him out of enemy fire and the first time they made love. He had said it again and again until Felix had snapped and told him to make good on his word. So he did, and they were married.

Some days, Sylvain stays up. Felix frequently accuses him of being a workaholic. His workload is harsh. Gautier’s affairs were already complicated enough, but Sylvain had foolishly decided to be the first Margrave to navigate a treaty with Sreng. Enforcing it is stressful, to say the least. On bad days, he'd wake up at his desk with the candle blown out and a blanket cocooning his back.

On other days, it was his insomnia that kept him up. Felix would try to lure him back into bed, with grumpy threats and the adorable purse of his mouth. Sylvain would follow him there, and bury his nose into his silken locks. He’d fix his eyes on the pillows and pretend to sleep, listening to the rise and fall of his husband’s breath. He would try to forget the shadows that haunted him; the cries of former friends and the anguish of former brothers. 

There was some calming about laying there with Felix. By no means was he an easy bedmate; Felix stole blankets, kicked and starfished. Sometimes, when he was especially tired, he would snore lightly and sleep talk. Still, there was nothing quite like waking up to his beloved as the sun broke through the curtains and gazing upon the splay of black silk on their pillows.

He could pretend his breath didn’t hitch when Felix’s eyes open to peer up at him. He could pretend that the brand of Felix’s hand on his hip didn’t make his heart flip. He could pretend that he isn’t tempted every day to swoop down and steal a kiss whenever Felix grumbles, “Good morning.”

But if he did that, he would be lying. He knew here, in his heart, that this was where he could be, should be. Here, with Felix, he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on twitter at [Feroxai_](https://twitter.com/Feroxai_)


End file.
